What makes you think she loves you?
by Alertbay
Summary: A different take on Ruth's response to Harry's question.    When Harry is forced to rethink his relationship with Ruth, where will the memories take him?  Let me know if you want more.
1. Chapter 1

"What makes you think that she loves you, Harry?"

"Why, what do you mean? She faked her own death and gave up her life here to save me. Is that not love?"

"Not necessarily. When you asked her to marry you, what did she do?"

"She refused me. She said that after all we'd done, after what we'd been through, that we could never have that life. That through work we were as close as we could be."

"Did you agree?"

"No." His face was stricken. "No."

"What made you think that you loved her?"

"There was a connection there that I've never felt with anyone else, an intimacy of relationship. When a friend, a colleague, suggested I was in love with her, I began to open my mind to the possibility. What makes you question it?"

"When she left, why did you let her go?"

"I had to."

"Because—"

"Because one of us had to leave."

"Why didn't you go with her or go and find her?"

"I don't know."

"I'm sorry but if she loved you, why did she move in with another man?"

"She thought we would never see each other again," he protested.

"It is your heart not mine but I just don't see how a woman could treat the man she loved with such spite and viciousness. Perhaps I'm wrong but is she really the best that you can do?"

He watched her for a long time, pondering the memories.


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark and dreary in spite of the sun as Harry Pearce made his way into the British Museum that Saturday afternoon hoping to find something to capture his interest, to take him away from the misery of his life. _Suspended. Rejected. A traitor. _Stepping into the room of plaster casts, Harry was drawn to Kraft's Shreyer-Landauer Monument, a massive relief depicting the crucifixion. _That about sums up my life: crucified for the sake of love —love of country, love of woman._ A childish giggle to his left caught Harry's attention. _Why do people bring small children to museums?_ he wondered in irritation.

"Mommy, look! It's Jesus!" A small boy ran up to the cast, planting his little hand over the foot of the cross.

"Yes," she responded kindly. Harry looked over to see a mid-thirties woman in a bright red jumper and a denim skirt, a pack on her back loaded with soft toys, juice boxes and granola bars. A younger boy sat on her hip playing with the ends of her dark brown hair. She smiled back at the little boy standing before her and Harry saw a moment of joy slip into her otherwise sorrowful gaze.

"Why does he look so sad, Mommy?" the little boy asked.

"He's sad for the people. He's sad because they're going to hurt him."

"Why do they hurt him?"

She sighed sadly. "Because of the things they've done."

_Because of the things they've done. _Those words brought the memory of other words to Harry's mind. _'Because of the things you've done. Because of the things we've done together.'_ Ruth's response.

He stepped forward. "Why do you say that?"

Cautiously, she responded, "From one point of view, Jesus was crucified because he challenged the world view of the day. From another point of view, though, you could say that they killed him because he forced them to see their own weakness, their own frailties," she explained, looking him over warily.

Harry nodded once and then moved to the stairs, detecting a clear warning from the mother: BEWARE – mother bear on patrol. As he moved away he heard the little boy again.

"But when you're God, they can't keep you down for long!"

Harry heard her bright laughter follow him up the stairs and a tiny smile began at the corner of his mouth interrupted by the unexpected rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire. Harry froze, flattening himself against the wall of the staircase. Yelling could be heard above. Harry inched his way up the stairs to the second landing, peeking around the corner to see masked gunmen firing into the air.

"Teddy. Wait up!" The mother called up the stairs and Harry looked back to see the older of the two boys running toward him. The mother and the younger boy hadn't turned the corner yet. More gunfire. Harry stepped back down the stair. Descending two at a time, he pulled the little boy up and into his grip, covering his scream with his large hand.

"Let him go immediately!" the mother demanded, reaching forward to remove Harry's arms from Teddy.

"Quiet!" Harry ordered. "There are gunmen upstairs. Get back down. Now!" She looked, then listened and then spun to descend the stairs. Harry followed, hot on her heels. He shoved her into the space between the wall and the plaster cast, handing Teddy in to her. Harry crouched at the entrance pulling out his mobile phone.

"_Emergency services. What is the nature of your emergency?"_

"Victoria & Albert Museum. Gunfire."

"_Sir, could you please give me your name?"_

"Harry Pearce. Clearance code 99672."

"_I'm sorry, sir. I need you to stay calm—"_

Emitting a growl, he responded, frustration surging through his chest. "I am perfectly calm. Transfer me to CO19 immediately."

"_Sir, there's no need to use that tone—"_

Harry snapped his phone shut. "One mistake and I'm cut off," he muttered.

"Who are you?" she whispered, tapping his shoulder.

"Harry Pearce," he responded quietly.

"Harry, what is going on?"

He turned as well as he could in the confined space. "I don't know but there are several masked gunmen upstairs. Stay quiet."

"Mommy, what's wrong?"

"I'm scared."

Harry listened intently beyond the little whimpers and complaints of the boys and the mother's attempts to soothe their fears, closing his mind to the apprehension behind him. There were definitely footsteps on the stairs now. He turned back.

"Keep them quiet. What's your name?"

"Sarah. Sarah Deschambault."

"Sarah, there's someone coming down the stairs. Keep them quiet." She nodded, pulling the boys more tightly to her in the confined space. They waited together, silent vigil broken by sniffs and whispery hushes, waiting and waiting.

"Check it out!" he heard, the voice nearby.

"CCTV showed a family with a couple kids. Check the toilets."

Three armed men came into view, one standing off to the right of the plaster cast, holding a sub-machine gun in his hands. One man moved across the path of the cast and off to the left toward the toilets. Harry glimpsed the left boot of a third man who must have moved off to the right.

A light touch on his back became a firm nudge. He waved his hand behind him but the nudge became a poke. He shifted, holding in his frustration as he turned to see Sarah's stricken face as she indicated the stream of urine flowing down the smallest boy's leg onto the floor, making a path through the dust on the floor beneath the plaster cast.

Panic gripped Harry's chest. _If they notice the stream, we're finished._ Shifting sideways in the space, he mouthed, "Apple juice."

Misunderstanding, she shook her head and mouthed, "Pee."

He shook his head brusquely. "Give-me-apple-juice."

She nodded, whispering to Teddy who crawled over her shoulder, unzipping the bag and reaching inside. His mother admonished him to be quiet. Teddy pulled out an apple juice tetra pak and handed it to Harry in response to his mother's nod. Harry popped the tinfoil with the pointed straw and began to squeeze a gentle flow to mix with the already visible stream. Sarah watched him, confusion printed across her brow. Harry continued to hold the emptied container.

The voices continued, "Toilets 'er empty."

"Check the—" the next word was interrupted by a little splash and Harry's stomach clenched. "What's this? Dex, come see this."

Footsteps and doom approached. The click of the safety release sounded directly in front of the plaster cast.

"Get outta there, now!"

Harry took a deep breath, motioning for Sarah to stay put, and then rose, exiting the space. He felt her hand grasping his sleeve but he pulled away. As he stood, he raised his arms to ward off aggression, the squashed juice box still clutched in his right hand.

His arms were grasped roughly and a sharp pain in his leg indicated the contact of the SMG with the back of his knee, knocking him to a position, kneeling on the floor.

"Are you alone?" The question came from the burly man in front of him, Dex. He stood straight and tall, his black curls neatly coiffed and his moustache trimmed. The khaki fatigues he wore gave him a military appearance but his manner was definitely 'businessman'. He struck out, a blow as fast as lightning, to slap Harry for his tardiness in responding.

Harry clenched his jaw. "I'm alone," he responded slowly, ire in his voice.

"Your wife and children?"

"My wife took them upstairs to see the Tipu's Tiger."

"You?"

"I—uh hid when I heard the gunfire."

"Given away by apple juice. Idiot! Take him upstairs with the others."

Harry was jostled roughly up the stairs toward the central foyer. And then it happened. A sneeze. Harry groaned. _Why is it always a sneeze that gives you away to the bad guys?_ That little sneeze was enough to alert the three gunmen. They grabbed Harry, shoving him back down the stairs and smacking him back onto his knees at the bottom, instructing him to lace his fingers behind his head. Sarah stood, her boys held tightly in her arms, a look of fierceness in her eyes. She followed as instructed, likely knowing that resistance would only endanger the children.

Topping the first flight of stairs, passing the fire doors on the first landing, Harry had an idea. He thrust his body to the right, slamming one gunman against the corner of the stairs, hearing his grunt as his head smacked against the corner. Pushing off his body, Harry reached forward to rip the gun from the man in front of him firing twice behind him to send the third gunman skittering down the stairs. Spinning, Harry slammed Sarah and the boys against the fire door, effectively ejecting them from the building. He saw her trip and then catch her balance, casting a glance back briefly before following his instructions.

"RUN!"

The slam of the rifle butt snapped his head around and he felt the kicks and punches to his trunk, head and shoulders as he gradually lost consciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah ran. The corner was very close and then she'd be out of sight. Her arms ached and her heart was pounding in her rib cage. _For such small children, they are so heavy in my arms._ She leaned into the corner, forcing herself onward. There at the edge of the building stood people, stood freedom. There were police officers, detectives and bystanders.

A huge man covered in black loomed before her, his gun at his side, his face hidden behind a black helmet and mask. Sarah, fortunately, had seen enough British dramas to understand that he was police not terrorist. He ran to her and, grasping her upper arm, pulled her toward the crowd.

Gasping for breath, Sarah released her sons to stand beside her and took their little hands in hers, noting their cold, clammy vice-grip hold on her fingers.

"I—need—to speak with someone—in charge," she demanded between breaths.

"Come with me, ma'am. You're safe now," her black-hatted rescuer assured her.

"I need to speak with someone in charge. I was with Harry Pearce, clearance code 99672."

"Calm down, ma'am. You need to see the medics." His firm grip remained on her arm as he drew her toward the ambulance and workers ahead.

She dug in her heels. "You don't understand. I was with Harry Pearce, clearance code 99762—"

"I don't know what that means, ma'am. Please follow me," he insisted, his voice losing the friendly tone it had previously.

"Listen!" Sarah insisted. "I don't know what it means either but he's someone important. Harry Pearce."

A young blonde woman stepped over to the quartet. "Excuse me. Who did you say you were with?" She carried a command in her tone and confidence in her stature; fair of face but stern of nature.

"Harry Pearce. Clearance code—"

"Never mind that. Come with me. I'll take over, officer." She turned to speak to the CO19 officer who backed off at the flash of her identification and moved away, shaking his head, muttering something about "ghosts" or "spooks".

The blonde woman was speaking to her again. "My name is Beth. I'm a colleague of Harry's. Come with me and tell me what happened."

"Gladly. But I need to change Charlie. He's soaking wet."

Beth stepped back a moment, taking in the two little boys and Sarah. She nodded. "It looks as though you're a little damp as well."

"Yes." Sarah released a dry chuckle. "But I'll keep. He's shivering."

Beth led her to a black Lexus, opening a rear door so Sarah could sit and change the little boy. Sarah pulled a change of clothes out of her pack as well as a bag of wipes and began to strip, clean and dress Charlie. Teddy sat in the footwell beside her as she worked. Sarah told Beth everything she'd heard and experienced.

Beth interrupted with questions, urgency in her voice and manner. "You say that the one gunman looked very 'neat and tidy'. What do you mean?"

"Well, the other gunmen were regular thugs, unkempt, scruffy. He was obviously carefully groomed. I think there was product in his hair, even. His clothes matched the style of the others but were clearly made of a finer material." Sarah pulled the newly dressed Charlie into her arms for a hug, tucking him into the seat behind her. He quickly moved to lay against her back, draping his arms over her shoulder, pressing his cheek to her shoulder. Teddy set his hand on her leg, crossing his legs on the floor of the car beside her. "And, being Canadian, the whole 'accent' thing means far less to me, but he definitely had a much more refined accent than the others."

"If you saw a picture, would you recognize him?" Beth asked as she pushed a number into her cell phone. She spoke into the phone. "Dmitri, I need you. Very funny." She slid it shut, ending the call.

"What is going on?" Sarah asked. "Will Harry be okay? He saved our lives. Beth, he doesn't know us from Adam or Eve but he put himself in the line of danger to protect us."

Beth reached a hand down to rest on Sarah's shoulder. "He's that kind of guy."

Soon a young man arrived, tall, straight, buzzed hair, handing a PDA to Beth. She passed it over to Sarah. "Is this the man who saved you; the man who called himself Harry Pearce?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes, that's him. He seemed so very sad and then he asked me an odd question—and then he saved us." Tears began to leak into Sarah's eyes but she sniffed them back. _No time for sorrow now. _

Beth switched the picture on the screen and showed Sarah another man. "Have a look at this. Is this the man who held you captive? Our refined terrorist?"

Sarah recognized him instantly. "Yes. That's him."

The young man, Dmitri, responded, "That's not good, Bailey. Fendo Feramez, Khurdish nationalist."

Their next words were interrupted by gunfire in the building followed by a mass reaction of the black-suited mob.

"Stay here!" Beth ordered and then she and Dmitri were gone.

"Mommy?" Sarah turned her head to Teddy. "Will they bring Harry out?"

"They'll try, sweetheart."

"He scared me."

"I think maybe Harry only scared us to save us."

The cyclone of confusion swirled around them and Sarah moved into the back seat of the car, pulling the door closed and giving the boys a snack before laying them down on the seats, singing to them. Innocence can sleep in the rumours of danger as long as Mommy is there to keep them safe.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah stepped out of the car as she saw people emerging from the building, checking back once to see that Teddy and Charlie were still fast asleep on the back seat. Police officers and CO19 officers were escorting civilians—the hostages, she presumed, and herding them into police vans. Next came the bad guys, the terrorists, hands held high, red laser dots visible on their chests. She couldn't tell if the Khurdish man was among them.

As the terrorists exited, in raced the paramedics and soon she saw three people wheeled out on stretchers. She followed their trajectory toward the ambulances off to her right. Harry was one of the three. She checked on her children, assuring herself that they were still sleeping soundly, and then moved over to see Harry. He was pale and beaten, bruises and welts visible across his face, his battered body covered by a sheet. She couldn't resist the urge to brush her fingers through his soft, curly hair, seeking to comfort the one who had saved her children, the one given away to punishment because of a toddler's bladder and a tiny boy sneeze. She had no idea what kind of man he was except that he was courageous and he deserved her gratitude.

His eyes fluttered open at the light caress. "Are the little boys safe?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you. Thank you for saving us. You were very brave," she assured him.

He nodded once. "Pleasure. What are their names?"

"Teddy and Charlie."

He nodded again and then his eyes closed. She rested her hand on his shoulder, desiring to comfort him as he awaited the paramedics.

"Sarah!" Sarah turned at her name to see Beth waving her back to the car.

Sarah murmured, "Thank you, Harry," giving his shoulder one last pat before moving back to the car. "Does he have someone to stay with him at the hospital?" she asked, gesturing behind her.

"Who? Harry?" Beth exchanged a look with Dmitri. "No. No one."

"I'd like to then. A little kindness seems a fair exchange for such courage. He would be unharmed if it weren't for us."

Dmitri responded. "Unlikely. He would have found another reason to get the crap kicked out of him. It seems to be his lot in life to be the unsung hero—and villain." He murmured the two words.

Beth responded ruefully, "Very poetic, Dmitri, but not really relevant. We're stopping off at the hospital on our way in to work. You can come with us."

Sarah wondered at what she'd just heard but shook it off, climbing into the back of the car, belting the boys in and sitting in the middle, letting them sleep against her.

Beth managed to schmooze the physician in charge of Harry's case into letting Sarah, Teddy and Charlie into Harry's room, implying they were his family. Sarah tucked the boys into the overstuffed chair in the corner of the hospital room, wrapping them in a powder blue blanket and, taking a hard-backed chair, positioned it between the boys and the man, sipping the tea provided by a compassionate nurse.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was awakened by the beeping. _Beeping. Hospital. Why?_

"Bl**** terrorists," he muttered.

"Pardon me?"

Harry's eyes flew open at the sound of a woman's voice. _Jane? Margaret Thatcher? Ruth? No, none of the above. _"Sarah, is it?"

"Yes. Hello Harry," she smiled down at him, a small smile but enough to let him see past the sorrow in her eyes.

"What happened? Where are the little boys, Teddy and—?" he asked.

"Charlie. You saved us. And I guess they beat you for it. I don't really know what happened after you tossed us out the fire door."

"Why are you here?" he asked, probably more forcefully than necessary.

She seemed taken aback by his question. "They said you had no one to sit with you. After what you did, I couldn't let you wake alone in a hospital bed." Her voice began to freeze over. "I'll leave now since you clearly don't—"

He reached for her, clutching her sleeve. "Thank you. I don't mean to be—ungrateful."

She released a dry chuckle. "You certainly don't have anything to be grateful for. But we do, and I wanted to thank you. We'll leave—"

They were interrupted by Dmitri's arrival. "Harry. Couldn't keep out of trouble," the young man offered with a grin. The younger boy, Charlie, was awakened by his officer's boisterous joking. _Wait. He's no longer my officer, probably never will be again._ Harry sighed. Charlie crawled down from the chair, running to his mother and clinging to her skirt. She turned and picked him up, reassuring him.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, ignoring Dmitri's teasing.

Dmitri sobered. "They've collected the witnesses and transported them to the Best Western until they can all be questioned. Once that's completed, we'll know whether or not we got all of the terrorists."

Harry noticed Sarah collecting her things, putting Charlie down in order to rouse Teddy. "Come on, Teddy, we need to go now," she murmured sweetly.

Charlie trotted over to the hospital bed, climbing the rails like a jungle gym, coming to rest, kneeling beside Harry. He planted his hand in the middle of Harry's battered chest and leaned into his face.

"Bye-bye Harry," he said, except he pronounced it 'Hawwy', and then leaned forward and kissed Hawwy on the chin. Charlie dropped back to the floor and ran over to take his mother's free hand. Her face wore a mixed look of astonishment and amusement as Harry reached up to wipe the gummy bear juice from his chin, an equal mixture of emotions in his mind.

He watched them as they exited, feeling a brief sense of loss as they passed out of the room, Teddy looking back once to wave.

The re-opening door brought a sensation of lightness to Harry's chest which he found difficult to understand. _I hardly know them. Why am I pleased that they would return?_ But the lightness was replaced by apprehension as Beth rather than Sarah hurried into the room.

"What's happened?" Harry asked, his heart accelerating to match his sense of foreboding.

"They've been murdered. All of the witnesses have been murdered," Beth responded, her voice tight, her hands fisted.

Harry braced his arm across his ribs, struggling to sit upright, making it only a fraction of the angle. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice laced with apprehension.

"Someone—two men—got into the suite where the witnesses were waiting to give their testimonies to the plods. They opened fire and gunned them down. Two officers were injured and all of the witnesses were killed. The DG has ordered us to take you into custody, to protect you."

"Me. Why me?" Harry asked, confused.

"You're our sole remaining witness. We'll need your testimony."

"And?" Harry asked, suspicious of the message left unsaid.

"And a gunman was arrested twenty minutes ago trying to enter the hospital through the Morgue."

Harry blanched. _I'm not the only witness._ "Sarah." Harry leveraged himself higher in the bed. "Go and get her. Beth, get her and bring her back." Beth studied him for a moment. "I'm not the only witness."

Beth's eyes widened and then she spun on her heel and accelerated down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

Sarah was exhausted, the turmoil of the day weighing heavily on her now that she was almost free of it. _Harry is a strange man. Well, I did what I came to do, be there when he woke and thank him for saving our lives. Now, back to the hotel, I guess, for a shower and sleep. I hope Charlie can sleep now after those naps._

"Mama. Sing Arky Arky. Please?" Charlie asked, his upturned eyes pleading.

Sarah chuckled. _No rest for the weary._ She began to sing and the boys joined in.

"Mommy, I needa go pee," Teddy informed his mother, his voice grave as though delivering the tidings of apocalypse. She nodded and assured him that they'd find a bathroom as soon as possible, beginning to search around for the ladies' symbol.

"Sarah!"

Sarah turned to see the blonde woman, Beth, jogging toward her.

"Mommy! I needa pee," Teddy insisted.

"Just a minute, son," Sarah replied, turning back to Beth. "Look, Beth? Teddy needs to go to the washroom—the toilet. And really, I've been soaked once already today."

"You don't understand Sarah, I need you to return to Harry's room with me now," Beth informed her.

"Mom~my!" Teddy said, turning the word into five syllables. He began to dance around and pull on his mother's arm.

"Teddy, stop. Beth, I need to find a bathroom. Now! Help me or clean up the puddle. Your choice!"

"Here." Beth led them to the corner, to the right and then—oh, glory be!—to a toilet. Beth insisted on checking the space and then finally let the little boy relieve himself. Sarah shook her head in amusement at the loud sigh Teddy emitted as he emptied his bladder.

Once the boys were lighter and their little hands washed clean of gummy bears and apple juice—Sarah would never think of apple juice in quite the same way again—Sarah led them out into the hallway to greet a nervously pacing Beth.

"Okay, Sarah, I need you to come with me now."

Sarah took a breath to hold in her mounting frustration. "Look, Beth. I'm tired. The boys are cranky. I'm covered in urine and apple juice and all I really want is a shower and a change of clothes. I'm not interested in who your boss is or what he's involved in. I just want to go to my hotel room and sleep."

"Sleep Mommy?"

"Hotel Mama!"

Beth tried again. "Come back with me and I can explain. I don't want to frighten the children."

Sarah studied her, taking so long to decide that Charlie started to swing from her arm and Teddy started to try and pull the pack off her back so he could locate—something. She groaned. "Teddy, what do you want? Charlie stop and stand up properly."

Beth crouched down before the younger boy. "Charlie. Is that your name?" Charlie stopped spinning, forcing his body flush against his mother's leg. "Do you know that I have a cat named Charlie?"

"A kitty cat?" he asked. Sarah watched Beth carefully.

"Yes. Would you like to see a picture of it?" Beth asked, reaching into her pocket to retrieve her PDA. Charlie nodded vigorously in affirmation. She pressed a few buttons and then presented the photo to Charlie. Teddy stopped pulling on the pack and looked over Beth's shoulder at the pretty calico.

"He's fat," Teddy observed.

Beth chuckled, agreeing, "Yes, he is." She stood and began to walk slowly back toward Harry's room. Teddy jogged ahead and then stopped to check in with his mother. Once Teddy received the nod, Charlie ran ahead to see the next picture that Beth presented. Sarah shook her head in amusement coloured by exasperation—and followed.

"Hello Harry," Charlie greeted cheerily, skipping over to climb up onto the hospital bed again, sitting cross-legged beside Harry. Teddy slowed at the door, fisting his mother's skirt and waving cautiously. _He's likely not recovered from being manhandled down the stairs._

"Now, may I ask what is going on? Why my children and I are not allowed to return to our hotel room?" Sarah asked, her frustration slipping into her voice despite her best efforts.

"Sarah, we need you to—" Dmitri began to explain but Sarah cut him off.

"Dmitri? I have had enough of this day. I'm weary and worn and I want a shower, clothes that don't stink of pee and a hot bath. Wait, I only need a shower or a bath, not both. What I mean to say is—"

"Sarah," Harry began to explain.

She pointed at him. "DON'T interrupt me!"

Harry subsided into shocked silence until Charlie turned to pat him sympathetically on the cheek. "You in trouble now," he informed Harry who released the tension on a single laugh.

"What is going on?" Sarah demanded to know.

Harry took a breath, interrupted by a wince as the expansion of his chest pulled on his battered ribs. "The other witnesses are D-E-A-D," he replied simply, spelling out the word.

Shock stilled her body and mind. _Dead._ Eventually, she cleared her throat to force her vocal chords into action. "Are we in D-A-N-G-E-R?"

Beth intruded, speaking to Harry. "No one seems to know they even exist. They're not listed as hostages or as witnesses."

"We have to protect them," Harry insisted quietly, his face unreadable.

"We would need to sneak them into the same safe house as you in order to keep it secret. If we place them somewhere else, we'd have to explain it."

Harry nodded slowly. "Arrange that. And get me out of here."

"You're not really fit to be released, Harry," Sarah said.

Beth and Dmitri turned to Sarah. "There's no choice. We can't protect him here."

"It is up to neither of you under what circumstances I choose to check myself out of hospital," Harry asserted hotly.

Sarah turned a narrowed gaze to him. "Exactly who do you think you are? The Maharajah of Mysore? If the doctor says you need care, then you need care."

"Well, I nev—" Harry spluttered in reply.

"Sarah," Beth interrupted. "We can't protect him here and we can't take the risk of involving another person in his care."

"Fine. Then you get the materials and instructions from the doctor and I'll look after him," Sarah stated, not particularly warmly.

"You don't owe me anything," Harry retorted hotly.

"You shut up and—"

"Mommy, you said the 's' word!" Teddy admonished her.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," she mumbled, blushing red.

But Harry laughed, as heartily as his cracked ribs would allow. "That's a six-pointer, Teddy," Harry replied. "Beth, make the arrangements. Dmitri, go to the hotel yourself and get their things. Now, find me a doctor and get me out of here."


	7. Chapter 7

A noise awakened Sarah in the night. Disoriented at first by the unfamiliar environment, Sarah slowed her breathing to try and regain a state of 'calm'. _Safe house. _From the hospital, she and the boys and Harry had been driven to a rundown building in an obviously rough area of the city of London, the top floor of which was a small two bedroom apartment.

Upon arriving three evenings ago, Harry had shuffled, pale and bent, past the kitchen on the right and the bathroom on the left and into the second bedroom. She hadn't seen him again until midmorning the next day when he'd emerged dressed in navy trousers and a white cotton t-shirt, looking slightly less pale but much more abused as the bruises had deepened from red to purple in the night. He had shuffled into the bathroom and then the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

He had tried desperately to ignore the three of them as he moved about pouring the tea, trying to carry the pot and the cup into the lounge and failing miserably. Finally, he had growled and carried his cup in one hand, his other arm clutched across his ribs.

Sarah had watched him settle on the couch, lying back into the corner, propping his feet on the coffee table. Once he'd settled, she had carried over the pot and some toast and jam, setting them beside him without a word. Teddy stood up from where he was seated on the floor in front of the television and handed Harry the remote control, skipping over to the table to engage Sarah in a game of 'Go Fish'. Charlie had run into the bedroom, emerging with an armload of books and dumping them on the couch, curling up to read beside Harry. The shock remained on Harry's face for the next hour.

After that, over the next few days, he'd thawed his frosty attitude a bit, reading to Charlie and letting Teddy teach him to play a variety of card games. He was polite but distant with Sarah which suited her just fine. _I can't believe I'm caught up in this bizarre situation._ The only time they came into disagreement was when she insisted he take his pain medication. Then, he was downright surly.

His injuries primarily consisted of a few cracked ribs, bruising across his chest, neck and shoulders, and, of course, his face, as well as seven stitches over his left eyebrow—it looked to Sarah as though that spot had only just healed—and four stitches just beneath his chin. These she was to check forty-eight hours after they'd arrived and then remove the dressing, apply anti-bacterial cream and reapply a bandage every few days. She sighed, realizing that she'd forgotten yesterday and would need to accomplish that today. _He is not going to be a good patient._

The noise filtered into her awareness again. _It sounds like pleading._ Harry was clearly tormented by his past—or his present, she wasn't certain. She rolled over to check that the boys were still asleep snuggled amongst the covers and then, pulling on her bathrobe, she made her way to his closed door. There were clear sounds of torment coming from inside. _He's having a nightmare._ He seemed to have them every night but he usually subsided into silence after a few minutes. Tonight was different.

She knocked lightly on the door, opening it slowly when she received no response. It was too dark to see anything but she could hear the struggle as his body moved amongst the covers.

"Harry," she whispered. "Are you okay?" No response. She tiptoed over to his bedside and tapped the lamp on low. He was clearly asleep and Sarah had a moment of indecision until he began to toss again.

"No! Don't, please don't! Please!"

Sarah's heart clenched at the pitiable voice from the usually strong and self-controlled man.

"Harry, it's okay. You're safe. Harry, you're safe," she reassured him, keeping her voice firm and calm.

He stilled and his eyes opened, looking straight up and then over toward Sarah.

"What are you doing?" he asked gruffly.

"You were having a nightmare."

"Sorry. I'm fine," he responded shortly.

"Why would you apologize for having a nightmare?" she asked, bewildered.

"For waking you."

"You wake me every night but you usually settle back to sleep on your own. Tonight you didn't."

His eyes widened in surprise as she spoke. "Sorry. It—it happens quite a lot." This time his voice was softer, gentler.

_What kind of life have you led, Harry Pearce?_ "Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked aloud.

"No. Go back to bed."

She laughed. "You really are used to being the boss, aren't you? I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep for a while so I'm going to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?"

He studied her for a moment and Sarah couldn't read anything on his face. "Yes, thank you." He moved to sit up in bed, an obviously unwilling groan escaping from him.

She stepped over to help him. "You're so sore. Come on and let me help you."

He pushed her hand away. "I don't need anyone, Ruth."

She pulled back in confusion. "Ruth?"

Harry corrected, "Sarah."

"You are very stubborn. No wonder Charlie likes you so much. You're so similar. Were you a rascal as a little boy?" she asked.

He raised his eyes in confusion to her face. "What do you mean?"

"About what? Charlie liking you? I would think it's rather obvious. He takes his books and curls up on the couch with you several times a day. He doesn't see any of your gruffness. He only sees the kindness you try so hard to keep locked away."

"Teddy?" he inquired, his voice very quiet.

"He's still a little afraid of you. I think he's associated you with the fear of the museum disaster because you grabbed him on the stairs. I'm sure it was a great shock to him. I can see, though, that he's warming up during your card games. He shared his trains with you this evening, didn't he? He's a sensitive little fellow but also very forgiving."

Harry shook his head and she couldn't detect the reason. "You're a wonderful mother." He looked up to meet her gaze again.

"Thank you. I love being a mother but it is hard to do alone."

Harry finally leveraged his body to the edge of the bed. "Why are you alone?" he asked, reaching out his hand to give her permission to help him.

She took his hand and wrapped her other arm around his shoulders, helping him come forward and off the bed before she retrieved his dressing gown and helped him take the first few steps to the kitchen, his gait easing as his muscles stretched out again.

"I'm a widow." She turned to him when he pulled back a little and she realized that he wanted to walk on his own.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry said.

"David and I always wanted children, a house full, but, of course, it didn't happen as planned. When the doctors told us that children were not an option for us, we started the process for adoption. We adopted Teddy when he was one. Then I found I was pregnant and we had our family. Smaller than planned but wonderful. And then he just died."

"Just died? What do you mean?" Harry asked as he leaned against the counter top.

Sarah plugged in the kettle and retrieved a tea bag and pot. "David died of an aneurysm while I was still pregnant with Charlie. He never met him. Neither boy will ever remember their father." Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "Sorry," she apologized.

Unexpectedly, she felt warm arms around her and she turned to rest in Harry's embrace, allowing his comfort just for a moment. "Thank you," she said, moving away to make the tea—properly as she had been taught by her English grandmother.

When she turned again, Harry was sitting at the table. She brought the pot and two china tea cups. "Wait, we're supposed to have treats with tea, aren't we? No cake. Cookies?" She retrieved a few cookies from the package and set them on a plate before him.

"That's where the sadness comes from—the sadness behind your eyes," Harry stated. "What brought you to England?"

"David and I always planned to travel, especially here. So I decided to bring the boys and come and—it's been lovely in some ways and has allowed me to see that life can go on beyond my grief. It's been hard, though, to realize all that the boys will miss experiencing with their father. I try to be a fun mom but I can't stop being a woman to give them that manly approach to life."

"Trust me, having a father isn't always the answer," Harry asserted, studying the pattern on his tea cup.

"You're divorced, aren't you?" she asked. "You have children? Is that where your sadness comes from?"

"Why am I surprised that you've sussed it out? I was a lousy husband and a lousy father. My daughter meets with me once a month for supper and will now graciously submit to a hug from me afterwards. My son wants nothing to do with me." Harry slumped into his chair. "I've never told anyone that before."

Sarah reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "Thank you for trusting me. I'm sorry to hear of your sadness. I can see that you've lead a strange and, perhaps, dangerous life? But I also see a gentleness in you that I'm not certain you realize that you possess. Charlie doesn't just curl up on the couch with anyone. Teddy doesn't share his trains with just anyone."

She filled Harry's tea cup again. "What explains the misery behind your eyes, Harry? I understand that there's the deeper sorrow of your children and your ex-wife but I don't think that really explains it. I've gathered that there's some problem with your job as well. You're an undercover officer or a spy or something, aren't you?"

"Not such a good one if you can tell," he observed, his face clearly expressing his astonishment.

She laughed. "David worked for CSIS, the Canadian Intelligence Services. He wasn't a spy himself but some of our friends were. It's easy to interpret the signs when you know what you're looking for. Do you work for MI-5?"

Harry continued staring wide-eyed, slowly nodding.

"Have you been suspended? I would guess that it was a set-up except that you act like you deserve to suffer so I'm guessing you messed up somehow."

"You are a remarkable woman. I—can't—ah—" he subsided and she could see the defeat in his posture. "I gave away a state secret to save a life," he finished in a rush.

"But that's not the source of your sorrow, is it?"

"I gave it away to save a woman's life. I gave it away for love." And now the misery was plainly visible on Harry's face, in his entire frame.

"It's a good thing to save a life, Harry."

"Mama. Mama." Charlie toddled out of the bedroom, wiping his sleepy eyes. Sarah picked him up as he approached, giving him a hug and a kiss. He searched the room sleepily and saw Harry. Slipping off his mother's lap, he moved around to the big man, tapping his leg and raising his arms. Harry's hand dropped, it seemed without his permission, to ruffle the little boy's hair. "Up please." Harry braced his ribs and lifted Charlie up onto his lap, tucking him into his elbow. Almost immediately, the little boy's eyes began to droop closed.

"That is an act of deep sacrifice. How did she react when she realized you had sacrificed everything for her?"

"She despised me for it. Said it was unfair of me to love her. It was her turn to die."


	8. Chapter 8

"Tell me the story," Sarah said and he wanted to. Here in this musty, ragged safe house, her son sleeping against his chest, her compassionate heart beating in sympathy for him—the hated, the despised, the outcast—he wanted to tell her everything—and so he did. He told her of every encounter with Ruth Evershed, from her arrival on the Grid, to Juliet's question, their first and only date, to her rejection and Havensworth, to Cyprus, George and back again. And then he told her of his proposal and the events that followed. None of it was a state secret. None of what he told her was classified "for your eyes only". But this was the first time he had told anyone the tale. Even his diary only recorded part of the story.

"What makes you think that she loves you, Harry?" Sarah asked.

"Why, what do you mean? She faked her own death and gave up her life here to save me. Is that not love?"

"Not necessarily. When you asked her to marry you, what did she do?"

"She refused me. She said that after all we'd done, after what we'd been through, that we could never have that life. That through work we were as close as we could be."

"Did you agree?"

"No." His face was stricken. "No."

"What made you think that you loved her?"

"There was a connection there that I've never felt with anyone else, an intimacy of relationship. When a friend, a colleague, suggested I was in love with her, I began to open my mind to the possibility of a life with her. What makes you question it?"

Not answering, she continued, "When she left, why did you let her go?"

"I had to."

"Because—"

"Because one of us had to leave."

"Why didn't you go with her or go and find her?"

"I don't know." His gaze fell.

"I'm sorry, but if she loved you, why did she move in with another man?"

"She thought we would never see each other again," he protested.

"It is your heart not mine but I just don't see how a woman could treat the man she loved with such spite and viciousness. Perhaps I'm wrong but is she really the best that you can do?"

Harry remained on the chair, stunned at her response to his tale as she moved over to lift Charlie from his lap, taking the little boy back to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Unexpectedly, Harry felt a lightness at the idea that perhaps what he felt for Ruth was not love. But what he felt for her was stronger than anything he'd ever felt for Jane, definitely for Juliet. _What is love then?_ Perhaps a man who couldn't answer that question didn't deserve to find love, to be happy.

He lay in the bed, staring up at the darkness, wanting to wake Sarah and make her explain. He rifled through his memories trying to find an answer, eventually succumbing to the sleep his healing body so desperately required.

SPLASH! Harry startled awake, groaning at the pull on his ribs caused by the quick reflexive movement.

"Teddy, that is not funny! Go and find something to do!"

Harry groaned loudly at the effort as he crawled out of bed, quite certain that he couldn't be heard over the commotion beyond his door. Dressing in jeans and a green t-shirt, he made his way to the source of the noise.

"Teddy!" Sarah called, her voice stern and very 'mommy'ish'. Harry watched as the little boy tossed toy cars over his mother's crouching form and into the bathtub causing a squeal of laughter to erupt from the occupant of the tub. "Charles Henry, sit down!" Harry heard a sharp smack and Charlie protested angrily with a scream of indignation—but he sat.

"Don't do that!" Harry rebuked Sarah, stepping forward into the room. "There's no need to hit him."

"I didn't 'hit' him. I applied a slight sting to his hindquarters to add emotion to the lesson."

"If you can't manage to handle—"

She stood abruptly, spinning to face him, her hair messy, the front of her shirt pulled out of her jeans and covered in dampness. "How dare you?" She shoved him with both hands, forcing him back and slamming the door in his face.

Shocked, he stared at the door until he felt a tug on his hand. He looked down into Teddy's eyes. "I got in trouble, too. Wanna play 'Go Fish'?" Harry felt too stunned to respond at first. "Mommy's mad 'cause Charlie poured a whole bottle o' sauce on the floor and then made a huge picture of an elephant. He likes to finger paint."

"Show me," Harry instructed, taking a firmer grip on Teddy's hand as the boy led him to the kitchen. Harry laughed once and then released a loud guffaw. Teddy laughed with him. "It is a very good elephant," Harry observed.

"Uh huh," Teddy replied, laughing happily.

"Where was Mommy?" Harry asked.

"She aksed us to watch TV while she got dressed but there was nothin' good on so I built a fort," Harry looked over to see every pillow, cushion, towel and blanket in the flat heaped in a mass beside the couch. "But Charlie got bored so he went to get a snack."

"I suppose we should clean it up," Harry suggested.

"I s'pose," Teddy agreed reluctantly.

Together, boy and man mopped and wiped the floor so that, by the time Sarah emerged with a dripping Charlie, they were halfway through their first hand of 'Crazy Eights'.

"Teddy, could you please bring me a towel from your fort?" Sarah asked, her voice relaxed and calm again.

"Sure Mommy," Teddy responded, hopping down and retrieving a kitchen towel for his mother.

She held out the tiny cloth between her thumb and index finger, a grin bursting across her face chased by a laugh of joy. "Thank you, Teddy David. Could I perhaps have a slightly larger one?" Teddy shrugged and skipped off to the fort.

Charlie began to wiggle and Sarah turned to him. "Want to find your own towel?" The boy nodded. "Will you get dressed when I tell you to?" He nodded again and she put him on the floor. He ran over and jumped into the pile of cushions. Harry noticed there was no redness on his flank. Sarah was right. She hadn't marked him.

"Er—" Harry started.

Sarah turned to him. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just so frustrated. Charlie wouldn't sit and Teddy kept intruding, poking me and tossing things into the tub. They're going stir-crazy being held indoors so long. Normally, we spend several hours a day outside."

"I'm—er—sorry to have interfered."

"I would never harm my children, Harry, no matter how frustrated I felt," she responded firmly.

"Of course not," he replied sincerely. "Would you care for tea?" He wanted to be well and truly away from any risk of argument, particularly an argument about parenting.

"Actually, I would prefer coffee. Do we still have any? When do the guards bring our next shipment of groceries?"

"This isn't a prison, Sarah."

"Harry!" Sarah stopped at the edge of the kitchen, crying out and startling him. Turning back to him, she inquired, wonder in her eyes, "Did you clean this up?" At his affirmative, she took a step toward him and then stopped, uncertain, hugging her arms around herself, tears in her eyes. "Thank you. I—I haven't had anyone to help me in a long time. I'll—uh, be right back." He saw the tears in her eyes as she fled into the bathroom.

Harry made the coffee, leaning against the counter to watch the little clothed and naked bodies flying around the room, jumping, running and giggling. Harry smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

After lunch, Sarah put the boys in front of the television and sighed into a chair at the kitchen table. _One more task and then I can rest._

"Harry." She got the man's attention where he sat reading the newspaper across the table from her. He lowered the newsprint to look at her. "I was supposed to change the dressing on your stitches yesterday and I forgot. We'd better do it now."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

She sighed. "Are you going to be difficult? Because, frankly, I'd rather that you just 'manned' it out and got it over with."

His eyes narrowed. "And if I refuse."

She put on her best 'mommy' face, the 'do-it-or-face-the-consequences-expression'. "You may think you're too old to be—"

Harry put up his hand to stop her, laughing, a laugh that reached his eyes. "I give. You are quite fierce when you're angry. You know that, don't you?"

She grinned in return moving away to retrieve the bandages and ointment. Harry sat very still as she slowly peeled away the plaster on his chin and over his eyebrow. One of the stitches was caught in the gauze requiring a very close inspection.

Sarah caught herself humming as she moved closer, inhaling Harry's aftershave deeply, enjoying the spicy scent. She glanced down to see his eyes riveted on her face. He looked away quickly, his face flushed red. She stepped away from him.

"Sorry," he apologized.

She returned, giving him a brief kiss on the forehead. "Don't apologize. I'm sure—it's—never mind." She turned away but he grabbed her hand, squeezing it once before releasing it. She moved away into the kitchen putting away the medicaments. "We need to leave the bandage off for a few hours but we should cover it again before b—uh, slee—tonight."

He cleared his throat, drawing her gaze back to him briefly before it flitted around the room, her thoughts flitting with it. "Why don't you have nap? I'll watch the boys for you," he offered.

Her gaze settled on his face. "Really?"

He smiled. "Yes. Truly. Go ahead."

"Thank you." _A nap! Glory be!_

Sarah sank into the centre of the bed, spreading her limbs and making a modified snow angel, enjoying the width of a bed not inhabited by kicking, flopping boys. She breathed a sigh of relief and drifted into her nap.


	11. Chapter 11

A knock on the door pulled Harry's wavering attention away from the horse movie he was watching with the boys. It had been a long time since he'd sat and watched anything but the news. This little story, however, was quite interesting and Harry found himself cheering for the main character.

"New toys?" Charlie asked after the second knock.

"I don't know, mate," Harry replied, ruffling the boy's hair. "Wait here and I'll find out." The little boy shook his head and hopped off the couch, Teddy following, but waiting to pause the movie first.

Harry moved to the door flanked by Teddy and Charlie. He requested the password and then looked through the peephole, his chest clenching at who he saw. Stepping back to open the door, he took Charlie by the hand to move him out of the way.

"Ruth," he said. It took him twice to get the name out. "Come in."

Teddy's grip on Harry's hand tightened and Charlie flattened himself against his leg. Teddy tugged on his hand until he lowered himself to take the boy's whisper. "Can you ask her if she has any new trains?"

Harry smiled softly at the boy, straightening to speak with Ruth. "They would like to know if you have any toys."

Ruth's eyes flashed a hidden look but she replied kindly, "No, sorry."

The boys' eyes fell. Harry suggested, "Why don't you go wake Mommy up from her nap?"

"Okay!" Teddy and Charlie answered in unison, running off to the bedroom. _Poor Sarah._

"Have a seat, Ruth." Harry gestured at the table and chairs. He kept his hands busy to hide their shaking, moving into the kitchen to avoid making eye contact with Ruth. "Would like some tea?"

"No, thank you. Harry, come and sit. I need to speak with you." Her voice was the recently known Ruth's, familiar and yet lacking in any of the enthusiasm or warmth that he had become accustomed to before the proposal. Harry sighed and sat across from her.

"How are you?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

Avoiding her gaze, he replied ruefully, "Fine. A bit battered but that's nothing new," not fully certain himself to which part of his anatomy he was referring, his chest or his heart within.

"What did you think you were doing?" she asked, a definite rebuke in her voice.

"I couldn't let the villains hurt the little boys," Harry responded softly and then he met her gaze and the lightness returned, much to his amazement. _If I don't have to think of her as my only chance at love, lost through the choices she's forced me to make, I don't have to carry all the pain._

She hmphed at him, breaking his train of thought. "I've come to tell you that the enquiry begins tomorrow. I've contacted your lawyer and provided him with the necessary documents. You will be retrieved in the morning and taken to Whitehall." Her voice was cold and clinical. She began to stand and then sat abruptly. "Why did you do it, Harry? How am I meant to bear this?" Her voice was warming to anger now.

Harry knew she wasn't referring to the museum incident but to the Lucas/Albany decision. "I've seen enough death, Ruth. Yours would have been one too many."

"No one will thank you for this," she warned.

The tightness was back in his chest and he had trouble breathing. The spite and disappointment in her eyes lanced through his belly. He sat forward, clenching and unclenching his fists until he felt a little tap on his leg. He looked down to see Teddy at his side.

"Harry, can you play 'Go Fish' with me after she goes?" Teddy asked quietly and suddenly a weight lifted from his chest. He realized that here was someone who didn't hate or despise him. And Charlie, Charlie was quite fond of him. And Sarah?

Sarah rushed out of the bedroom. "Sorry, Harry. He escaped." She reached for Teddy's hand.

"It's all right," he reassured her and turning back to the boy, he replied, "Yes, Teddy, I'll play with you after Ruth leaves. Now, go on back with Mommy."

"Okay," the boy replied, moving to take his mother's hand and return to the bedroom. Harry soon heard the sound of the bed bumping against the wall, likely from the boys jumping. Laughter filtered out.

Harry turned back. "Ruth. It was my choice to make and I made it. It's done. I can't undo it now."

She slapped her hands on the table in obvious frustration. "I'll be called to testify."

"I assumed as much. It doesn't seem to me you'll have any difficulty convincing them that there was nothing between us; that I acted on my own without your consent."

She stood abruptly. "Good-bye Harry."

"Ruth." He called her back from the door. She turned and glared at him, perhaps expecting some sort of apology. "Could you ask our minders to send some new toys, trains preferably—oh, and coffee?"

She watched him, surprise widening her eyes, and then she nodded thoughtfully.


	12. Chapter 12

Sarah was becoming frustrated with Harry's new attitude. Obviously, the lovely dark-haired woman had brought bad news, but surely a grown man should be able to control his emotions better than this. And then she heard it.

"Stop that at once! Get down from there!" Harry's angry voice carried through the apartment—and half the neighbourhood, she was certain. Sarah rushed over from the kitchen to intervene in time to see Teddy run from the room and Charlie dissolve into tears and rush into her soapy, wet arms.

Harry stood and paced to the front door without a word of apology. "I'm going out," he said, his voice still angry and gruff.

"Oh, you are, are you? We've been stuck in this apartment as long as you have. Why do you get to leave? And what gives you the right to be so mean?"

He stepped back toward her, raising his voice to be heard over Charlie's sobs. "You've no right to speak to me in that manner!" he asserted hotly.

"Exactly what are you going to do to prevent it?" she challenged, not in the least intimidated. "Grow up, Harry! Bad things happen. Life sucks sometimes but it doesn't give you the right to take it out on the people who care about you." She turned on her heel and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door.

Consoling the boys, she learned that Teddy had been crawling up on the back of the couch and jumping down onto the seat and then onto the floor. He assured her that Harry had only told him once to stop before he'd yelled at him. Charlie had been playing with some blocks on the coffee table.

"Something is bothering Harry. I don't know what. I guess we'll have to give him some space for a while. Let's go find something to do," Sarah suggested.

"I don't want to go out, Mommy," Teddy reported, his voice panicked.

"Harry's not out there. He's gone."

"Did he die like Daddy?" Teddy asked quietly.

Sarah's heart clenched for her poor little son. "No, sweetheart. He just went for a walk to get rid of his grumpies. Come on. There must be something we can do that we haven't already done sixty times." Sarah picked them both up and moved to the kitchen, pulling out a bag of dry pasta and dumping it into a large mixing bowl. She pulled out ten of the noodles, colouring them with markers and hiding them in the mixture. "Let's see how long it takes us to find the red ones," she suggested and the boys dug in, soon lost in the fun of playing in the pasta, retrieving a few cars and blocks to add to the adventure.

Sarah sat by them at the table, desperately wanting to cry. _Why on earth am I upset by this? He told me himself he was lousy with kids. Just because it took a few days to see the real man doesn't mean I wasn't an idiot for thinking he was anything special._

Once the pasta lost its charm, they built a fort under the kitchen table and then Sarah put them in the bathtub for a 'just for fun bath', no washing required.

Harry didn't return until supper was almost ready. Teddy shot into the bedroom as soon as Harry entered the apartment and Charlie didn't come running but stayed in front of the television.

Harry set a plastic bag on the table and sat heavily on a chair. Sarah ignored him. _He made this mess, he can sort it out._

"Sarah," he said, his voice husky and quiet. The next was a little louder. "Sarah, I'm sorry." She turned to him, seeing his face cloaked in misery. He didn't look up to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"What happened?" She kept her voice even, her anger retreating in sympathy with his misery but she was not willing to let him off the hook until she understood better what had happened.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Evidently something did happen because you hollered at Teddy, frightening him badly and hurting his feelings," she insisted.

He met her eyes with a fleeting glance and then looked away again. "I mean nothing happened that justified my behaviour. He was just jumping on the couch and didn't stop when I told him to." He leaned forward, resting his head on his hands, quiet for a long while and Sarah returned to preparing supper.

"What did you mean when you said I had no right to take it out on the people who care about me? Sarah, I don't know if you've noticed but no one cares about me. My life is a train wreck, as a colleague once told me. I shoot through life hurting everyone I come into contact with." He looked up to find her eyes.

"Oh, Harry," she replied, sympathy driving her to his side. "You have been a big fat jerk today but one loss of temper doesn't qualify you as a train wreck. Mistakes can be fixed."

"Not all mistakes," he replied, his eyes watching her face. He seemed unable to look away and she couldn't tell whether he was waiting to be condemned or desperately hoping for forgiveness.

"I suppose you must be right. But this mistake can be." She moved closer to lean against the table beside him.

"What do I do?" he asked, still watching her closely.

"You need to apologize to Teddy. You really hurt him, Harry. He was just beginning to trust you and you treated him very badly."

He brushed his hands through his hair. "Why would he forgive me?"

"Because he cares for you and Charlie cares for you."

"And you?" She started to move away but he wrapped his arm across her waist, stopping her but not restraining her. "Please tell me. The truth. All I want is the truth."

She met his eyes again, seeing the pleading there. "I care for you, too, but I'm not very happy with you at the moment. Apologizing does take you some way toward making things right, though."

His breath shuddered in his chest but she was still shocked when he pulled her close, resting his head against her, holding her tightly around the waist. She hesitated and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, stroking his hair in comfort. He released her just as abruptly, returning to studying the pine knot on the table between his hands.

"I'm sorry. I had no right to do that," he mumbled.

She patted his shoulder in comfort and then moved around the table, turning off the stove burners and sitting across from him at the table.

"Harry, you're going to have to tell me the truth." He looked up at her words. "But first you need to make things right with Teddy."

"Tell me what to do," he insisted.

"Apologize to him. Explain—in four year old terms, of course—and try to do better. He's very sensitive so it will take some time for him to trust you again. But, Harry, this is not an unfixable situation."

He nodded slowly. "Jane always said—" he stopped.

When he didn't continue, she prompted him. "Who is Jane? Your ex-wife?" Sarah asked.

He nodded. "She always made me feel that each failure was critical and unrepairable. She used to remind the children of the times I'd overreacted or underreacted or just been absent." Harry's eyes pleaded with her. "I do love my children. I do care for yours."

"No parent is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. But when you make a mistake, you have to go back and apologize and try to fix it, either in the now or in the future. And, just for the record, your wife should not have done that. I've seen it many times in friends and colleagues who feel the need to punish their spouses, using their children as their weapon. She was wrong to do that and you were wrong to leave mistakes unanswered." She stood and moved back into the kitchen, reaching up to bring down four plates. "Now, go in and talk to Teddy and fix this."

He nodded once, his face determined. "I—uh—I stopped and bought some new trains and a couple of books. I also bought you some coffee. It's Ethiopian—supposed to be very good. I've—uh—arranged for you and the boys to go out once a day from now on."

She gave him a small smile. "Thank you. It will be nice to get out of here." She sighed in relief. "I'll let you give the toys to the children."

He nodded again and moved into the bedroom.

Sarah hugged her arms across her chest, wishing she could hear what was being said. After a time, Teddy emerged, carried on Harry's back and she wondered how the poor man was managing with his battered ribs. Charlie raced over and Sarah announced that supper was ready so as to preempt a new activity which would then leave supper cold.

"Harry?" Harry looked down at Charlie. "Grumpies gone?"

Harry turned his head to look at Teddy's face over his shoulder. "What does he mean?"

Teddy answered quietly, "Mommy said you went for a walk to get your grumpies out."

Harry's eyes dropped to the floor. "Yes. My grumpies are gone. I'm sorry Charlie. I'm sorry Teddy. I behaved badly."

Teddy kissed Harry loudly on the ear, making Sarah smile. Clearly affected by the little boy's affection, Harry announced, "Er—I bought some new toys."

"Toys! Toys!" the boys cried together.

Sarah lifted Teddy off Harry's back and watched as Harry took out two new trains, a train station—which must have cost a small fortune—and two books, one about a car and one about a horse. He produced the packet of coffee and moved over to Sarah, wrapping his arms around her in a hug which she returned. "Thank you, for a second chance," he murmured in her ear.

She gave him an extra squeeze. "My pleasure."


	13. Chapter 13

Harry spent the evening playing with the boys, finding that it helped to keep his mind off the enquiry tomorrow. Sarah kept her distance—he didn't really understand why—but she kept a close watch on him. _Trust is something that must be earned and re-earned,_ Harry reminded himself.

Once the boys were abed, he made some of the new coffee and awaited Sarah's appearance. _'You're going to have to tell me the truth,' _she had said.

When she finally emerged, she smiled at his offer of coffee and settled at the table across from him.

"What do you want to know?" Harry introduced the topic.

"Well—I didn't really expect you to ask me that." She paused thoughtfully. "The woman who arrived today, was she the one who broke your heart? Is that what made you so cranky?"

"Cranky?" Harry sighed. "Yes. That's Ruth."

"What did she come to tell you?"

"The enquiry into my conduct begins tomorrow morning."

"What will happen?"

"They're going to tear my career to shreds, and then me. None of the good I've done will matter, only their current displeasure." His shoulders slumped at the thought.

"Are you being charged with a crime?"

"Perhaps."

"What are your options?"

"I could resign in disgrace and then they'll probably leave me alone. I could fight and, perhaps, win my job back. Or I could be demoted or spend the rest of my life in prison."

"Prison? Why not just resign then? How can prison be preferable to that?"

"Do you know the funny thing? I tried to resign a few months ago but Ruth convinced me to stay; said I was the only one capable of making the tough decisions; that they needed me to make those decisions, even though the responsibility was killing my spirit."

"Five years ago, David and I went through a very difficult time." Harry leaned forward, brows furrowed, confused by the topic shift. "We were having trouble getting pregnant and the medical investigation concluded that it was David's issue. He was deeply affected by that conclusion, becoming erratic at home and at work to the point where he was formally reprimanded for unprofessional behaviour. After that, I can tell you, I'd had enough, and insisted he sort himself out. During the argument that followed, he broke down and confessed that he was terrified that I would leave him. He asked me if I wanted a divorce so that I could have children with someone else." She stopped for a moment.

"What did you say?" Harry asked.

"Harry, David was more than just a sack of sperm. He was my lover and my friend. He was a son, an uncle, a nephew, a brother. He was so much more than his ability to reproduce."

"What are you telling me?"

"You are more than your job. I'm sure that you are very good at what you do but one day you will leave the service. Even if you choose not to retire, your professional life will end. Death, I'm afraid, is inevitable. When it does, they will replace you with someone. That person will not make the same decisions you do. Perhaps they will make worse decisions than you. Then in time, they will be replaced by someone who makes better decisions, and the wheel will continue to turn. Remember, Harry, I have some experience with the intelligence community and you must know that half of what you deal with is a direct result of having an intelligence community. Think of the Cold War. How many operations were conducted just to perpetuate espionage? Blow up this office, arrest this man, deliver this message, all so the west will take a firmer line on Communism." Harry's eyebrows arched at her words. _She has keen insight. Wow!_ "What will be accomplished by going to prison? How will you reconcile with your daughter and your son? What purpose would be served by falling on your sword?"

"Perhaps I don't feel it's worth fighting," he responded, watching her closely.

She pushed back from the table, spilling the contents of her coffee cup. "Well, I think that's very selfish of you!"

She stood and marched away, gasping in surprise when Harry pulled her around to face him. He gripped her upper arms tightly, searching her face, intense but not angry. "Why?" He pulled her closer. "Why?"

"Let go of me, now," she asserted, her voice low and threatening. He released her, dropping his hands to his sides. She remained standing very close to him, her gaze fixed on his. "Because I would miss you."

"Why?" he demanded to know.

"Uh uh. The next words are yours and you have quite a bit of thinking before you're ready to decide."

"If I kissed you now, would you slap me?" he asked, watching her eyes closely, seeing the corners twinkle into a smile.

"You'll have to try and find out."

He leaned down slowly, smiling as his lips pressed against hers, feeling the thrill in his belly, a thrill he'd never felt before.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day, Harry, dressed in an immaculate charcoal gray suit, was escorted away before he'd even finished his eggs and bacon. Pausing at the door, he'd turned back and kissed the tops of the boy's heads.

The boys obviously missed Harry all day. Their minders took them to a park across the city for two hours of play followed by a fast food lunch and it was with much lightened hearts that they returned to the safe house.

At suppertime, Harry had still not returned and Charlie's persistent questioning was beginning to make Sarah feel edgy. When the door finally opened, the boys ran to greet the man but wandered away droopily when it was Ruth who entered, not Harry.

Sarah invited Ruth to share a pot of coffee and pulled out a few more cookies, which she had been told by Teddy were biscuits, the lad copying Harry's vocabulary.

Ruth launched her attack. "What have you done to Harry?"

Sarah was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"He's changed. Harry has been in love with me for years but now—he's different. Are you sleeping with him?"

"Lower your voice," Sarah reprimanded. "Of course I'm not sleeping with him. How dare you? I don't just fall into bed with anyone, you know." Sarah paused, settling her anger. "However, I am glad that you asked me that inappropriate question because it gives me the right to ask you this: when Harry asked you to marry him, why did you tell him that you would have said 'yes' a thousand times but now the answer was 'no'? Are you in love with him?"

"I love Harry. That's obvious to anyone, I think. But I don't want to be with him. How could we ever live that life? The Garden Club, the neighbourhood watch?"

"You don't have to live in the suburbs to be married."

"I don't want to marry him. I don't want to roll over in bed to see the man who sent my good friend to her death; who exonerated the colleague who killed her; the man who would allow a child to be tortured to protect a pathetic secret!" Ruth's angst grew as she spoke but she lowered her volume at Sarah's warning scowl and nod toward the children.

Sarah blanched at the mention of children and then fired to red. "Harry would never allow a child to be tortured."

"You don't know him. You have no idea of the things he's done!" Ruth insisted.

"Oh no? Let me guess. He's sent young people out who've been shot, captured, tortured? He's stopped bombs at the cost of other lives, dearer to you—or him? He's sacrificed friends and allies to meet the demands of the state?"

Ruth gasped at her insight and sat back in her chair. "You—how did you—it doesn't—"

When Ruth seemed unable to complete her sentence, Sarah asked her next question. "Do your feelings for Harry preclude friendship?"

Ruth gathered herself and answered, "I tried to be friends with him and he asked me to marry him—at a funeral!"

Sarah frowned, thinking. "I don't quite see the problem with the funeral-thing—except—" She met Ruth's gaze. "It was the funeral of the colleague who killed your friend, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Ruth responded simply and the two women shared a moment of empathy.

"Ah, now I understand. You know, he probably didn't even realize that."

"Don't you think he should have?" Ruth demanded to know.

Sarah smiled softly. "He's not the most aware individual when it comes to social-emotional issues. He is a man, after all. A little thicker than most, I think, in those areas."

Ruth chuckled softly. "Perhaps. I'm not certain that I'm much better," she admitted.

"Couldn't you tell him that you just want to be friends—that you love him but only want to be friends? And explain why?" Sarah said.

"Could you do it for me?" Ruth asked, her eyebrows raised hopefully.

Sarah began shaking her head and continued to shake it. "I don't want to do that. No, thank you. I would prefer you did it. But, please tell him. He's hurting."

"You care for him," Ruth observed.

"I hardly know him," Sarah replied.

The women sipped their coffee for a time, a comfortable silence between them. Soon, Teddy wandered over.

"Mommy, when is Harry coming home?" Teddy asked.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Sarah replied.

He pulled her down to whisper in her ear. "Does she know?"

Sarah whispered back. "I'll ask her." She turned to Ruth. "Do you know when Harry will be back?"

"I believe they've put him under house arrest to prevent flight from prosecution," Ruth explained.

"What does that mean—for us?" Sarah asked, bewildered by this information.

"I don't really know. I did notice that your guards were gone," Ruth observed.

"We're not supposed to be here. Harry was protecting us by placing us here with him. If he's been removed, they will have removed his security." Sarah began to panic. "Teddy, why don't you go back and watch TV?" But Teddy didn't move, fear colouring his eyes.

"Who knows you're here?" Ruth asked.

"Beth and —uh, Dmitri."

Ruth pulled out her mobile. "I'll take care of it." But her call was interrupted by a rapid banging on the door. Sarah looked at Ruth and Ruth gestured for her to gather the boys together and take them into the bedroom.

"Sarah! Open the door! It's Harry Pearce!"

Sarah ran to the door, looking through and pulling it open to find herself scooped into Harry's strong arms. She flung her arms around his neck and held him, relief flooding through her.

"I'm sorry. It took me this long to lose my tail. I knew you must be unprotected but they wouldn't let me contact anyone. I'm so glad you're safe. Where are Teddy and Charlie?" He released her, looking around the room, immediately seeing Ruth. "Ruth."

"Harry."

Sarah called her sons. "Teddy. Charlie. Harry's home." They ran out of the bedroom throwing themselves into his arms.

"Harry! Hawwy!" He lifted them both in his arms, holding them tightly against his chest and receiving two big, little boy kisses, one on each cheek, drawing a smile to his face, a smile that reached his eyes.

"Harry," Ruth said, moving forward to place her hand on his arm. "Where will you take them?"

"Home, I suppose. I have plenty of rooms for them and they'll be safe there." He turned to Sarah. "Is that okay?"

"Home? For protection?" she asked cautiously.

He smiled. "Yes. Just for protection. Nothing else. Once our Khurdish friend has been apprehended, you won't need protection any longer and you can —uh—go home."

"Okay. Let me get our things together."

"I'll gather the toys," Harry offered, placing the boys on the floor. "You turkeys can help as well." He gave them each an air swat on the behind.

Sarah rested her hand on his arm. "Why don't you speak to Ruth while we pack?"

"About what?" Harry asked, looking confused, searching back and forth between the two women. Sarah moved away to gather their belongings. "What did she want us to talk about?"

"You've changed, Harry," Ruth observed.

"Changed how?" he asked, cautiously.

"You're in less pain. Why?" Ruth asked.

"I've realized—she made me realize," he nodded in Sarah's direction. "That I don't have to see—well, you—as my only chance at happiness and therefore don't need to give up all hope because you rejected me."

Ruth raised her eyebrows in astonishment.

"What?" Harry asked.

"That was very insightful. Not the usual emotional understanding from the great Harry Pearce. Harry, do you think that we could be friends—just friends?" Ruth asked carefully.

"Yes. I think that could work. I am sorry for the times I've hurt you," he apologized.

"As am I. I deeply regret causing you pain," Ruth confessed. Harry moved over and wrapped her in a warm hug which she reciprocated. He felt a warm glow in his chest which he now realized was the glow of deep friendship not romantic love. Friends can live with the kinds of things they'd done, the choices they'd made, but a spouse?

Ruth departed, promising to discuss Sarah and her sons' safety with Beth and Dmitri and, if necessary, the DG.

Harry bundled them all into a taxi and ordered them to his house, brashly leading them in past the guards posted to keep him securely confined. They watched, mouths gaping.

He helped Sarah settle the boys into one of his main floor spare rooms and put Sarah's things in the other.

Wanting to test his theory, he pulled her close, holding her tightly against him. The warmth spread through his chest and a tingle started in his belly and when she looked up to see his face, he kissed her, pressing mouth against hers, sliding gently along her top lip and then her bottom lip, bringing his hands up to hold her face tenderly as he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, finishing once again against her mouth. His entire being thrummed with his desire for her, physical, emotional, intellectual.

"Sarah," he whispered against her ear before kissing it. "I've never been in love before."

She tilted her head sharply. "Be clear," she insisted. "Speak plainly."

"I love you. I love Teddy and Charlie but I love you beyond it all. If there were no Teddy or Charlie, I would still love you. I've never felt this way before—about anyone."

She pulled back to meet his gaze, caressing his cheeks with her fingers. "I have been in love before and it feels just like this."

He smiled and kissed her again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Epilogue**

Ruth walked up the steps of the Canadian log cabin, rapping firmly on the front door. She could hear the sounds of children coming from inside the house.

The door swung open. "Ruth, what a surprise!"

"Harry, how are you?" she smiled at his happy greeting.

"I'm well. Come in." He moved aside, allowing her to pass into the house.

"Dad. Dad!" Ruth looked over to see a boy of about eight appear at the top of the stairs, holding the remains of a train engine and hopper. "Rachel's been in my room again. She broke my train. Dad, she knows she's not allowed!"

"Excuse me a moment, Ruth." He turned to the boy on the stairs. "If you want to speak to me, Ted, come downstairs. There's no need to holler." Harry waited patiently as the boy hopped down the stairs and handed him the pieces. "I think we can fix this. You're sure it was Rachel?"

"I caught her."

"And she's still breathing?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes," the boy sighed as though it had taken great self-restraint to control his reactions.

"Very good." Harry grinned. "Okay, I'll deal with it. Please go and find your mom and tell her we have company," Harry instructed the boy, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

"No problem, Dad." The boy, Ted, gave Ruth a little wave and trotted out toward the back of the house.

"Ruth, if you don't mind? Have a seat. I'll only be a minute." He moved up the stairs. "Rachel Elizabeth Pearce? Answer me now."

"Yes Daddy?" A toddler appeared at the top of the stairs, peeking through the banister at the top, her head adorned with the most beautiful blonde curls.

"I'd like to speak with you." He put his hand out and led her away.

Ruth's attention was brought back to the bottom room where a tow-headed boy raced into the room carrying the biggest frog Ruth had ever seen.

"Jilly? Jilly!" he called. Noticing Ruth, he greeted her, "Oh hi. I'm Charlie. Isn't this a beaut of a bullfrog? I want to show my sister. She loves frogs. Have you seen my dad?"

"I—" Ruth's answer was interrupted by Harry's reappearance on the stairs.

"That's one brilliant bullfrog, Charlie, but you'd better get it out of the house before your mother sees it."

"I wanna show Jillian. Do you know where she is?"

"I want to show," Harry corrected his grammar. "Jillian is in the garden with Mom."

"British garden or Canadian garden?" Charlie asked.

Harry chuckled. "Canadian." Charlie skipped off with his frog still in hand. "Son, can you tell Mom that we have company, please?"

"Okey-dokey, father-o-mine," Charlie replied, humming happily as he skipped away.

"Would you like some tea, Ruth?" Harry asked, coming to sit in the chair across from her.

"No, thank you. Harry, you look young, younger than the day I met you. It must be the children," Ruth observed.

"Oh, they age me just in a different way than terrorists. You're looking well. What brings you here?"

"We're spending the week in Banff on holidays and when I saw how near we were to your house, I begged off hiking this afternoon and rented a car."

"We?" Harry inquired. "Wh—"

"Harry darling!" Sarah stepped into the room with a curly, blonde toddler on her hip, a matched set to the 'toy-breaking Rachel', stopping when she noticed Ruth. "Hello," she greeted happily.

Harry moved over to his wife, using his thumb to erase a smudge of dirt on her cheek and then kissing the spot.

"Daddy," the little girl greeted, reaching up to her father. Harry pulled her into his arms, hugging and kissing her.

"Sarah, you remember Ruth Evershed."

"Ruth Barrows," Ruth corrected.

Harry was surprised and then very pleased. "Barrows?" he inquired.

"Yes, Brian and I were married two years ago. We have a little girl, Lorelei. She's had a cold or I would have brought her. She would have loved being surrounded by children."

Sarah stepped over with a smile and shook Ruth's hand. "It's very good to see you again Ruth. Shall I put on some tea or coffee?" Sarah asked, looking between Harry and Ruth.

"No thank you, I really only meant to drop by. I wanted to tell you my news and—well, I wanted to see if you were happy." She looked around the room, seeing the smiling faces of Harry's family.

Again, Sarah looked back and forth between Harry and Ruth, finally reassured that friendship was all that she saw. Leaning up to kiss her husband, she relieved him of Jillian and gathered the other children into the kitchen, offering, "Why don't you have a quiet chat? We'll have a snack."

Harry smiled brightly at her before he sat again, asking, "Are you happy, Ruth?"

"Yes. Very. I can see that you're happy. Sarah loves you very much."

"I'm a lucky man." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "How did you know, Ruth?"

She understood his message, reading his mind, without needing to hear all the words. "How did I know it was love, true love?"

"Yes."

"I stayed. When Brian asked me out, I was terrified, and then when he asked me to marry him, I wanted to run a thousand miles, but I stayed. I wanted to stay." She shifted forward. "How did you know?"

"I couldn't stay away. After the trial for our Khurdish friend, she returned to Canada. I couldn't stay away so I sold my house and followed her, arriving on her doorstep. She made me get a flat in town until she agreed to marry me." He chuckled at the memory. "I told her I loved her. I showed her I loved her and she loved me in return. I couldn't stay away."

"Do you miss your job?" Ruth asked.

"No. Sarah was right. The world turns without me. No, resigning was the right choice. I've never regretted it. Are you still in Section D?"

"Yes. Brian is a professor of languages. I met him when 'D' brought him in on a case. I have—well, you may not believe me—but, I have cut back on my hours considerably since marrying Brian and I'm actually still on leave. I'm just not ready to hand Lorelei over to a nanny yet." Ruth blushed. She was embarrassed to admit these thoughts to Harry of all people.

"It makes a difference, doesn't it?" She looked up at his words. "To know that there are people in the world who value you for yourself; to know that you're more than your job." She smiled happily in reply. That was exactly what made the difference.

"What about Catherine and Graham?" Ruth inquired.

Harry smiled somewhat sadly. "Progressing. Catherine has been here a few times and we've been over to visit her twice. Graham. He's working in Banff. He's a ski instructor if you can believe it. He comes to see the children, to see Sarah. It's still rough but progressing."

"I'm so glad, Harry."

"So am I. Glad and grateful."

Ruth stood and Harry met her for a hug, a warm glow in her chest, the glow of deep friendship. And then Ruth returned to her husband and daughter, the two loves of her life.

After Ruth had gone, Harry made his way into the kitchen, seeing his family gathered around the table, enjoying their chocolate milk and biscuits.

"Is the company gone, Daddy?" Charlie asked, looking up with his chocolate moustache smile.

"Yes, son. It's just us again."

Sarah looked over at him from where she stood at the sink washing the cups, and smiled. He smiled in return moving in behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, kissing her neck.

"I love you, Sarah."

She leaned against him, holding his arms around her. "I love you, too, Harry."

THE END


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